Amy and I went to the doctor's office yesterday for an early ultrasound. Both of us were nervous, as all the difficult possibilities were running through our minds. What if (God forbid) the fibroid cysts had returned? What if something else might be wrong? What if we were going to have twins (they run in both families)?

But when the picture came on over the monitor and little Eudail appeared, all I could do was stare in wonder. Here was a new life, eight weeks and one day old, created by God through the agency of Amy and myself. Here was my flesh and blood, and Amy's flesh and blood, mingled together to create a unique person.

Here was our child.

Wow.

I couldn't take my eyes off the monitor. Our child. Our child. The phrase repeated itself over and over.

Then came the sound of Eudail's heartbeat, pounding away at 167 beats per minute. Our child. Our child's heartbeat. This is real. This is really happening.

The three of us left the office as happy as we had ever been in our lives. One man, who had never thought he'd ever have the opportunity to beget children. One woman, who had thought her previous history would leave her unable to have a normal pregnancy, if she could get pregnant at all. And one preborn child, healthy so far, growing and developing, preparing for a March 1 due date.